


Guilt

by KatiaSwift



Series: Sentiments Pour Jean-Luc [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Guilt, Inner Dialogue, Internal Conflict, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-09
Updated: 2013-08-09
Packaged: 2017-12-22 21:28:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/918215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KatiaSwift/pseuds/KatiaSwift
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I am a horrible person. But as I lean across the table and silence my poor bearer of bad news with a kiss, I can’t help but notice that being a horrible person feels so good."</p><p>A companion piece to Shame. I'd suggest reading that one first, but it's not a must. Beverly's thoughts upon hearing her husband is dead, and how that relates to her feelings for Jean-Luc. AU. Pre-series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilt

I can’t believe he’s dead.

 

Wesley’s father. My husband. Dear, dear Jack, with his smile and his jokes and-

No. I can’t do that. I can’t pretend to be in love with him again. He was my dear, dear friend. He once was more, but I lost that.

At least he didn’t know I didn’t love him. He was a good man. He deserved not to know. He deserved to be happy. To be with his family while he still could. To have what he thought was a happy marriage.

Oh, god, I hate myself. How can I be in love, happy and carefree and wanting, when my husband has just died? I feel like a monster.

Maybe I am a monster. How can I love someone when the person I was supposed to love is gone?

 

It’s a horrible thing that I want. He’s Jack’s best friend. He obviously could never think about being with me, especially not now. His loyalties lie with Jack, first and foremost.

It’s like I didn’t even _care_. It’s like I married him for money. Or for status.

I _didn’t_. I loved him then, I really did. I’m not glad he’s gone. I wish he was still around. He was my best friend.

But he _shouldn’t_ have been my best friend. He should have been my love. And he wasn’t.

Jean-Luc is here, and he’s telling me these things, and all I can think of is how much I want to kiss him.

 

I am a horrible person.

 

But as I lean across the table and silence my poor bearer of bad news with a kiss, I can’t help but notice that being a horrible person feels _so_ _good_. 


End file.
